


if each day a flower

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: Love and Other Fairytales [14]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: First Kiss, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Memory Loss, Patton is soft, Spiders, and soft is not a synonym for weak, bracing myself for the teens in haylofts jokes, inserts a lenny face here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-14 16:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18479587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: It’s hardly ever a good idea to listen to your heart instead of, you know. Common sense.Patton’s gonna do it anyway.





	if each day a flower

**Author's Note:**

> consider this an invitation to take a deep breath after i repeatedly decked you with the last few updates. title is from If You Forget Me by Pablo Neruda

Patton figured he should probably say something.

But between the surprise of finding the fairy prince in his truck and the slightly dizzying sense of seeing him awake for the first time ever, English was a bit of a difficult concept, all of a sudden.

They stared at each other for a long stretch and then the prince – shifted, almost nervous.

“Um,” he said quietly, and then he tapped the window with his knuckles. “Whats this?”

Patton’s voice gave several false starts before he managed to stutter out “The- the window?”

He wasn’t sure, but he thought the prince’s mouth might have twitched.

“I know what a window is,” he said, flat but not impatient, “This carriage. There’s no horses. There are a lot of them around,”

 _Duh_ , thought Patton.

“It’s a truck,” he replied, “It’s- a kind of car?”

The prince hummed. He squinted, tilting his head.

“Huh,” he said thoughtfully.

“What?” said Patton before he could stop himself.

“You-” he leaned in suddenly and Patton couldn’t help but yelp in alarm.

“How do you have a siren’s voice? You’re definitely human,”

Patton flinched.

“Funny story,” he said, though he couldn’t seem to put quite as much false brightness into his voice as he meant to. Nobody had ever brought it up quite so directly. He didn’t know how to continue.

“I have… a fairy godmother,” he said. He wasn’t sure how  _this_ particular fairy would take to him describing another any less kindly than that.

The prince let out a low whistle. “That’s quite the gift. A little ostentatious, actually,”

Patton felt his face draw into a scowl before he could stop it, but he quickly forced his mouth back into a placid smile.

“Lucky me,” he said thinly.

The prince leaned away again and Patton felt himself relax.

“Did you, um,” he said hesitantly, “Did you need something?”

The prince stared for a moment, and Patton tapped nervously on the steering wheel to fill the silence.

“I’m remembering things,” said the prince, finally, “From when I was asleep,”

Patton felt his face go scarlet.

Because, well… they’d all said some fairly embarrassing things about the fairy prince, frankly.

“And the other two, Logan and Roman,” he continued and Patton had a brief thought of  _Oh, wow, we are real dumb._

“Roman has something to do with me waking up. And I can’t trust that another fairy won’t turn me in to my  _brother_ ,” he sneered the last word like it tasted bad.

The words to defend them were bubbling up in Patton’s throat – Roman and Logan would never do something like that!

… Except.

Did Patton  _really_  know that? For sure?

Years ago, even  _one_  year ago there wouldn’t have been a doubt in his mind. And even now, he knew he’d trust Roman and Logan with his life.

But he didn’t necessarily know if he’d trust them with someone  _else’s_.

“I need a place to hide,” the prince continued, oblivious to Patton’s internal squabbling, “Until my sisters can get more information,”

“Your-?”

The prince did smile then, amused and maybe just a little bit mean. He lifted one of his hands and revealed one of the clearing spiders resting precariously on his knuckles.

Patton squeaked.

“You know, they like you very much,” the prince said, “They say you’re very polite,”

“Great!” said Patton shrilly, and then flushed, mortified.

And then the prince  _laughed._

And well. That was just  _unfair_.

It was really more of a tightly restrained giggle – he was covering his lower face and wrinkling his mouth to keep from making noise. But the light in his eyes and the corners of his mouth had turned up and what little resolve Patton had crumbled.

“I’ll help you,” he blurted.

Patton turned away – because looking at the prince was really just no good for his ability to  _think_  – and started the truck. He tried not to find it insanely endearing when the prince jumped at the noise.

“I live pretty far out of town,” Patton babbled, “We have a barn, you could probably hide in there for a few days and no one would notice. The goats make a lot of noise too, so you wouldn’t have to be sneaky or anything,”

Patton continued – he couldn’t seem to stop talking. If the prince thought his sudden inability to shut up was strange he didn’t say anything.

As Patton moved to pull out of the church parking lot, he hesitated.

“Um,” he said, “Sorry, but, uh – you should probably scrunch down,”

The prince raised an eyebrow.

Patton stubbornly maintained eye contact, even as he felt his cheeks burn red.

The prince rolled his eyes and folded towards the floorboards.

Patton had a feeling it was going to be a long car ride.

* * *

Virgil picked at the hay around him. He sat cross legged in the loft of Patton’s barn, waiting for his return, trying and failing to put his thoughts in some semblance of order.

Virgil had been wrong before – he  _had_  been conscious in the casket. But it was like his memories had shattered along with the glass when he woke up. Everything was in disjointed pieces, a kaleidoscope of fleeting impressions, singular moments and snatches of voices. Things were coming back, one instant at a time, but it seemed like any time he tried to focus harder he developed a splitting headache.

And he was sick – that much was obvious. At first, he’d thought it was only grief, or possibly being out of practice from being asleep so long.

But his magic barely responded to him, and when it did it was weak. And it was quiet,  _so_  quiet.

He’d called out for Mother a dozen times since he woke, a hundred. He’d gotten no response other than a faint and feeble pulse that was the only reason he knew she was still there.

Virgil was sick because the  _forest_  was sick. Mother was  _dying._

His mouth twisted in frustration. He was going to kill his brother. Virgil didn’t know what exactly he’d done while Virgil was asleep, but he was certain the damn snake was the cause of this.

The nearby ladder creaked, and Patton’s riot of gold curls popped up over the edge of the hay loft.

Virgil’s heart started fluttering.

He’d also left out some important information, when he’d asked for Patton’s help.

It was true that he wasn’t sure he could trust Logan or Roman. What he’d neglected to mention was that, the longer he was awake, the more sure he was that he  _desperately_ wanted to. Wanted  _them._ Felt a little bit like they were already  _his_ anyway.

“I brought you some clothes,” said Patton, shifting the folded bundle onto the floor of the hay loft and then pulling himself up over the edge. He sniffled once and then sneezed.

“You’re allergic to grass,” Virgil blurted, “I- right?”

Patton looked slightly taken aback.

“Um- Yeah, I am,”

“Will you be okay up here?” Virgil ask, nearly twitching with anxiety.

Patton smiled reassuringly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. It’s just a sniffle,”

When he handed Virgil the clothes, Patton looked like he might be about to reach out to soothe him, but then he pulled his hand back, obviously thinking better of it.

“You’re, uh,” Patton said nervously, “You’re a lot skinnier than my Pop, but definitely nothing of mine will fit you, and I think the pants should be fine if you roll them a few time-  _what are you doing?”_

Virgil paused, halfway through unbuttoning his vest, and looked up curiously.

“What?”

Patton’s cheeks had gone puce, and he’d slapped one hand over his eyes.

“You- Oh,  _gee,_ um, you can’t really- that is, uh-” he cleared his throat and laughed nervously, “Give a guy some warning, y’know?”

Oh.  _Oh._ Right, humans, clothes. That was a thing.

He might be even more scrambled than he realized, if he’d forgotten _that._

“Sorry,” he choked, darting behind a tower of hay bales with the clothes in hand.

Patton had been right – the outfit was hopelessly baggy, but it was made of some astonishingly smooth fabric, and when he rolled the strangely stretchy waist, the pants stayed on fairly well. He didn’t have a mirror, but he suspected he didn’t actually want to see how ridiculous he looked.

And even if he did look absurd, he didn’t want to spend a second longer than he had to in the clothes he’d woke up in – he’d felt like he was wearing a burial shroud.

He moved back around to Patton, who seemed to have collected himself. But then he looked up, saw Virgil, and instantly clamped his mouth shut.

“What?”

Patton made a brave effort, but then he started giggling.

“I’m sorry,” he said, nervously amused, “But you just- you’re the  _fairy prince,”_

Virgil didn’t know what was so funny, but his mouth was mirroring Patton’s grin without much leave from him.

“Yeah?” Virgil prompted.

“And you’re wearing my dad’s  _Muskingam_ _sweatshirt_ ,” Patton laughed, “In my hay loft, awake, it’s- this is ridiculous. I feel like I’m dreaming,”

- _“_ _He doesn’t even seem real,” said Patton, “He looks like painting in a storybook,”_

“ _I concur,” said Logan, “If the casket weren’t clearly a physical object I’d assume it was some kind of mirage,”_

“ _I’m glad you agree,” Roman laughed, “I was never sure if he really looked that fantastical or if I was just hopelessly gay,”_

_Logan choked and Patton giggled shrilly. Virgil wanted to roll his eyes so badly he ached with it – he’d been Roman’s only audience for so long, of course he was going to insufferable now he had someone who could talk back, Virgil thought fondly-_

Virgil blinked, his hand darting out and grabbing Patton.

Patton yelped, eyes wide. He’d taken several steps forward, reaching out, and Virgil had grabbed his hand before it could make contact with Virgil’s face.

“Sorry!” said Patton, jerking his hand back. “You went a little- you went a little funny, for a second, I was- I wanted to make sure you were okay,”

Virgil’s face just couldn’t seem to stop twitching into a smile, regardless of his input.

“It’s fine,” he said softly.

Patton relaxed and gave a tremulous smile.

“Did you want-” he said, then hesitated.

“What I mean is-” he started again, “You said- your sisters were getting information for you? And I- well I’m not as smart as Logan, or as woods-savvy as Roman, but I could- I mean, if you  _want to,_  of course, you could… ask me?”

Virgil tilted his head, considering.

“Alright,” he said, folding down until he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. He gestured to the space across from him and Patton followed.

Patton tapped his hands together – he was wearing a remarkably similar article of clothing to what Virgil had on, although Patton’s was open down the front and had no hood. He also had the sleeves pulled half over his hands

Curious, Virgil did the same, then mirrored the tapping motion Patton had made.

Patton giggled in response and Virgil’s heart did a funny little flutter in his chest.

“What did you need to know?” Patton asked.

Virgil turned it over in his mind a few times, wondering what he ought to ask.

He knew what he  _wanted_  to ask, which was exclusively things about Patton, Roman, and Logan. But, you know – priorities.

“How many people live in Wickhills now?”

“Oh,” Patton blew some air out of his mouth, “Not sure, about… four hundred, I’d guess, maybe five?”

Virgil startled.

“Uh, wow,”

Patton laughed.

“Is that a lot?”

“There was like eighty of you last time I checked,” Virgil muttered.

“If it makes you feel any better, we’re still definitely outnumbered,” said Patton, his voice a little strained.

Virgil scowled.

“ _ **Outnumbered**_?”

Patton let out a petrified squeak.

Virgil leaned back, taking a deep breath and trying to focus on something other than the desire to go pick a fight he’d definitely lose. The odds  _Patton_  had done anything were spectacularly low – there was no good reason to snap at him.

“What do you mean ‘outnumbered?’ By the fae?”

“…yeah?”

“And this is just a guess,” Virgil said tightly, “But I take it the fae are pretty hostile?”

Patton laughed again, but this time he didn’t sound like he found it very funny at all.

“Yeah, kiddo, I’d say hostile covers it,”

Virgil opened his eyes, raising one brow.

“‘Kiddo?’” he said, amused.

Patton had the decency to go pink in the cheeks, which made the little gold freckles on his face stick out all the more.

“Okay, yeah that- that was a little silly of me,”

Virgil turned to look out the window before he did something ridiculous – like  _giggle_  again, that had been a trip.

“How hostile?”

Patton let out a low whistle.

“Uh, changelings, a lot of them – but they mostly stopped that after Logan. I guess nobody wanted to risk not getting  _either_  baby back,”

\- “ _Logan, I’m telling you, it’s easy to tell you and Thomas apart but not for any of the reasons you seem to think,”_

“ _Do the ears not give it away?” Logan said dryly._

“ _You really think the first thing I look at when I see you and Thomas together is your ears?”_

“ _Then what_ is _it?”_

“ _Do you really not know?” Patton giggled._

“ _Know_ what _?”_

“ _You have easily three inches of height on Thomas,” said Roman, “Sometimes more, if he’s being particularly slouchy. Whatever makes you look like him can’t hide your obsessively perfect posture. I think if you_ did _slouch the sky might split open and smite us,”_

_Something thumped against the glass and Virgil wondered, incredulous, if Logan had actually just-_

“ _Is_ that _what you think slouching looks like?”_

“ _Isn’t it?”_

“ _You look drunk, actually, Teach,”_

“ _Patton you’ve never_ been _drunk you have magic alcohol-immunity powers and we all know it,”_

“ _I drink a lot of water!” Patton insisted,_ _but his voice hitched. Roman and Logan didn’t seem to notice. Virgil strained but he didn’t even twitch, and the moment passed-_

“- and Emmy Trout was gone the longest, easy, but lots of folks have-

Virgil groaned, bringing his fingers to his temples and pressing hard.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” said Patton gently.

“Headache,” Virgil deadpanned.

It was quiet for a moment, and then came the sound of distinctly self-conscious shuffling.

“… Sorry,” said Patton quietly.

Virgil opened his eyes, confused.

Patton had gone straight through pink into mortified red, and he was moving towards the ladder.

“I didn’t mean to-” Patton continued.

“Wait, where are you going?” said Virgil, and he felt suddenly very wrong-footed.

“I can get a little chatty, I know, especially with fairies, cuz telling doesn’t work on them, I shouldn’t have gotten so ahead of myself-”

“Wait-” Virgil insisted, but Patton was already shifting to move down the ladder and Virgil let out a huff of frustration.

He moved, grabbing Patton by the forearms. Patton startled, eyes darting between Virgil and the spot they’d just been sitting, blinking in astonishment. Virgil pulled him back from the edge of the hay loft

“You- you don’t have to leave,” Virgil muttered.

Patton’s eyes were near-perfect circles.

“I- I thought I was… giving you a headache?”

Virgil rolled his eyes.

“Headache’s got nothing to do with you talking, Pat, I promise,”

Patton’s eyes, impossibly, seemed to get even wider, and Virgil wondered why in the three seconds before his brain caught up to his own mouth.

“Right,” squeaked Patton, fluttering his hands out of Virgil’s grip and moving back away from the edge. He was so red at this point he looked downright feverish. Virgil’s own face seemed to be doing it’s best to catch up.

Patton took his place on the floor again, but not before murmuring a few skittish “Excuse me’s” to the several of Virgil’s sisters that had tried to follow them to the edge.

Virgil sat back down as well (maybe a little closer this time – shut up), and turned over the last thing Patton said.

“They’re taking mortals into mushroom circles?”

Patton nodded.

“What do they do with them?”

Patton shrugged.

“No one ever remembers. They disappear for a few months, and then they come back and don’t even realize they’ve been gone,”

Virgil’s eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

“Are they hurt? Or even upset?”

Patton shook his head. “No, why?”

That… that didn’t make any sense.

He knew his brother –  _unfortunately –_ and he had a disgusting tendency to play with his food. No doubt he’d encouraged it in the other fae after getting Virgil out of his way.

But to take them away and do nothing, or even do something and wipe the memory of it afterwards? What would be the point? Maybe just the knowledge the mortals would be paranoid of being taken – but that would be… startlingly subtle, for him. He was much more prone to theatricality.

Virgil shook his head. Between the century long nap and his head feeling like it’d been put through a butter churn, he was definitely not having an easy time putting the pieces together.

Several of his sisters came scampering up the ladder, towards Patton and Virgil. Patton tensed, muttering something that Virgil didn’t quite catch. Virgil reached out, laying his palm flat so they could climb on.

The second they touched him, their panic exploded.

 _The revel, the revel!_  They cried,  _Your friends, brother, the changeling and the boy who sings, Logan and Roman – they are at the revel!_

“They’re _where_?”

“What?” said Patton, “What is it?”

Virgil tried to rationalize it. He didn’t know them – not really. And they certainly didn’t know  _him_ , not beyond whatever they’d come up with themselves, standing around the crystal casket.

So why did he feel like he’d been so utterly betrayed?

“Looks like I was right,” he said bitterly, “Roman and Logan are with my brother at the Full Moon revel,”

Patton paled.

“..Oh,” he said softly.

He wrung his hands, taking in a quivering breath.

“I- I didn’t know,” he whispered, curling in on himself slightly.

He exhaled, still shaking, which only seemed to be getting worse. His face was starting to crumple.

“I- Hey,” said Virgil, floundering. He wavered, wondering if he was only going to make it worse, but then laid his hand on Patton’s knee.

“Don’t- don’t cry,”

Patton gave him a watery smile.

“Right,” he said, “You’re right, yeah. Don’t cry,”

A tingle of magic startled Virgil, sparking where his hand touched Patton’s knee. Patton’s face smoothed out and his shoulders relaxed.

Virgil raised his eyebrows.

“Well, that can’t be healthy,” he said dryly.

Patton shook his head insistently.

“No, you were right,” he said, and his face was tensing again, this time with determination, “We don’t- we don’t really know what’s going on. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions,”

\- “-  _cannot deny that you are incredibly prone to cognitive distortions,”_

“ _Is that your nerd way of calling me a drama queen?”_

_He wouldn’t be wrong, thought Virgil._

“ _I’m merely saying that not every inconvenience or setback is a world-ending catastrophe,” said Logan, uncharacteristically soft. It made Virgil want touch his face, which was incredibly frustrating – he couldn’t even picture it. He’d never_ seen _him._

_Roman grumbled something Virgil couldn’t make out._

“ _You_ aren’t _stupid,” Patton admonished, “There’s no shame in needing someone else’s perspective,”_

“ _And it is not as if I’m going anywhere,” said Logan, “I would be- I_ am _happy to help you anytime you might need it,”_

“ _Me too!” said Patton earnestly, “As long as you want us to be, we’ll be here,”_

_Virgil heard something that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle._

“ _I don’t think you understand just how long forever is,” Roman said wetly._

“ _Try me,”_

\- “You sound like Logan,” Virgil said before he could stop himself.

Patton blinked. He smiled and shrugged.

“He’s the smartest person I know,” he said, “There’s worse people to sound like,”

Virgil hummed.

“So you trust them? Even knowing where they are right now, and that they didn’t tell you?”

Patton nodded.

“I don’t- I don’t know what I don’t know,” he said, fumbling, “So I can’t- it doesn’t make sense to make a decision based on what I  _don’t_  know. So I should make it based on what I  _do_ know. I guess?” He wrinkled his nose.

“Does that make sense?” he said urgently, and it amused Virgil to no end that he seemed like might be genuinely confused by his own monologue.

“I think so,” Virgil replied, “So the question is, what  _do_  you know?”

“Roman and Logan are  _good_ people,” said Patton, “The- the  _best_ people. Well-” He giggled a little nervously. “I guess I might be biased,”

“But,” he continued firmly, “They’re not cruel, or evil, or- they’re not  _bad._ I know them. If they’re at the revel, they have a good reason,”

It wasn’t really very sound reasoning – Virgil had the distinct feeling Logan would actually hate it, considering it was based entirely on emotions Patton had  _admitted_  were biased.

But it wasn’t like Virgil was a beacon of rationality himself.

He took Patton’s hand, pulling him forward. Patton seemed a little confused but he went easily enough. Virgil led him until they sat side by side, leaning against one of the hay bales.

“You make a good point,” he said. “You know them, but I don’t really. Everything is in pieces. Help me put it back together,”

Patton’s face went hopelessly soft, and Virgil’s heart flipped again – he wasn’t even sure if it was directed at him, or the thought of Logan and Roman that caused it.

Either way, Patton took a deep breath, and then he began to speak.

* * *

_Stupid, stupid, stupid, shut up, shut up, shut_ up _._

Patton stubbornly tamped down on the pessimistic voice in his head and continued on.

He had been talking for at least an hour – one particularly weird side effect of his curse was that he couldn’t really overuse his voice.

Every once in a while, the Spider Prince would get a glassy expression on his face for a few seconds. Then, he would snap out of it, and usually follow it up with some mundane detail about the three of them that Patton hadn’t told him yet. Sometimes he’d just smile, and then gesture for Patton to keep talking.

He started asking questions – mostly about the timeline of Patton’s stories and his own memories, fitting them together. It was kinda like they were doing a puzzle. It was almost fun.

It was impossible to forget the prince was not human – the bright purple eyes alone were, frankly,  _super_  spooky, which wasn’t even to mention the rest. And Patton recognized that he was making a conscious, deliberate decision to ignore every basic rule of interacting with the Good Neighbors he’d ever learned.

But the prince had laughed, back in the car. He’d known Patton was allergic to grass – he’d been  _worried._ He’d said  _You sound like Logan_ with an expression Patton had seen in the mirror and in Roman’s face a dozen times, if not a hundred. He’d learned where Logan and Roman were and he’d look like his heart had shattered.

So yes, Patton knew very well he was thinking with his heart and not his head. He calmly acknowledged it was probably a terrible plan, and then – perhaps just a little bit spitefully – resolved to keep doing it anyway.

And if he felt just a tad bit more vindicated as the night went on and the prince’s face continued to soften bit by bit, well, Patton wasn’t  _immune_ to a bit of smugness, now and then.

“So, if I ask  _which_  human spilled the corn in front of Logan, I’m guessing you aren’t going to share?”

Maybe more than a  _tad_  vindicated.

“Nope, sorry,” smiled Patton,“If I’m not allowed, neither are you,”

The prince scoffed.

“I find it a little hard to believe you would do anything even if you _were_  allowed,”

“I don’t really  _have_  to do anything, honestly,” said Patton, and this was the first time he’d ever been able to talk about it this lightly, “Usually I just show up and everyone runs for the hills,”

“Useful,”

The laughed blurted out of Patton’s mouth, startling both of them.

“What?” said the prince, clearly trying not to laugh himself.

 _Useful_. Like it was a pocket knife or something. It was little absurd.

“If it didn’t make me feel so gross, I might agree with you,”

The prince looked baffled.

“Why would you feel gross?”

Patton cocked his head, equally confused.

“You think I  _like_  that I can force people to do things without their consent?”

“Then just don’t,” the prince replied. “I mean, if you hate it so much,”

The furrow in Patton’s brow deepened.

“I feel like we might be talking cross ways here,” said Patton, “I  _don’t_ use the curse, except on accident,”

The prince actually stared for a long moment.

“You-  _accident?_ ” his face turned suddenly furious and Patton jerked back in alarm.

“You mean to tell me,” the prince thundered, “That your Godmother gave you a siren’s voice and then  _didn’t teach you how to **control it?**_ ”

Patton could have sworn his heart stopped.

“I- _what?_ ” he whispered.

“Of all the  _irresponsible_ -”

Patton was only hearing snatches of the prince’s vicious monologue like he was listening through earmuffs. He felt like he’d actually frozen to the spot.

“-completely reckless, how  _old_  were you, even-”

Patton’s pulse roared back to life in his ears, and he’d grabbed the front of the prince’s shirt before he could think it through, blurting the shaky words out without any kind of filter.

“Wait,  _wait_  – so, I- I can control it? If I learn, I can learn to not do it?”

The prince’s anger melted into a sort of furious sympathy.

“ _Yes_ , _”_ he said vehemently, “I- Patton,  _yes_ , you can. I’ll teach you myself if I have to, I swear,”

Patton didn’t really have an excuse for what happened next.

It was like a hot air balloon full of sheer glee swelled to life in his chest, bubbling up out of his throat into a slightly hysterical laugh, down his arms into his fingers, and before Patton could stop himself he cupped the fairy prince’s face and kissed him.

It took about three seconds for Patton to realize he’d done something _incredibly_  stupid, and only about one more for him to be absolutely horrified.

But the fairy prince seemed to be a lot less concerned, because when Patton retreated, self-conscious and already rushing to apologize, the prince immediately pulled him back in.

Patton had thought about kissing the fairy prince far more than was probably strictly appropriate; he’d wondered what it might be like, but nothing he’d imagined covered it even  _slightly_.

The prince’s palms were cradling Patton’s face, impossibly gentle, like he was handling a soap bubble with his bare hands – and yet Patton was acutely aware of a buzzing under his own skin, like his hair standing on end just before lightning struck.

The contrast was dizzying, maybe even a little intoxicating, and it was that thought that made Patton push gently on the prince’s chest.

The prince let him go instantly, his hands slipping down the side of Patton’s face to rest on his shoulders. He was staring at Patton with his pupils blown wide, but he looked just about as gobsmacked as Patton felt.

Patton gave a slightly frazzled giggle.

“Wait till Logan and Roman hear I kissed you first,” he said.

There was a beat of silence, and then the prince  _cackled_.

Patton kept grinning, barely resisting the urge to kiss the laugh out of the other boys mouth.

“You-” the prince wheezed a bit, “Shit, look at me, like some kind of smitten-  _ridiculous_ , wait til I tell-”

He abruptly cut himself off, and then it was like the air got sucked out of the room.

All Patton’s bliss evaporated.

The prince’s expression had frozen, and then it fell totally blank all at once. He pulled his hands back.

“…Tell-?” Patton prompted gently.

“Tell no one,” said the prince, flat. “No one. She’s dead. Long dead, probably,”

Patton winced. Tentatively, he placed his hand on the prince’s, running his thumb back and forth.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.

The prince shook his head, mouth twisting.

“I’m going to kill him,” he spat, “He put me in that  _stupid_  sleep and now- now she’s just-”

Patton squeezed his hand.

The prince had a look of furious concentration on his face, and Patton’s heart throbbed – he was fairly certain the other boy was trying not to cry.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Patton asked.

The prince looked up, searching Patton’s face. Patton squeezed once more, smiling as encouragingly as he could.

“…yeah,” said the prince after a long pause.

“Yeah, I do,”

**Author's Note:**

> did you take that deep breath? because theres not gonna be another
> 
> Edit: whoops, should made this more clear - i meant another deep breath. because it's pretty much all out catastrophe from this point on. sorry


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